The Games
by ladyelainemalfoy
Summary: In the bloom of magic and muggle technology, Draco Malfoy is in search of a woman for his life, and Hermione competes, reluctantly, against other witches in the games called The Bachelor
1. Chapter 1

**Obviously, I shouldn't write another WIP but I can't help it. :) Though I hope you like it. It'll be short, I tell you. This one is shorter than FLCD and MTME would be. I hope you'll like this too. **

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><p>Five years after the war, the wizarding world had varied. It had adopted to change, less tolerance upon pureblood mania, and more to muggle innovation on few things. Upon this changes, the adaptation of muggle technology was the greatest. The wizarding world had adopted the television and the telephone, although, those were of limited uses. It couldn't be used in Hogwarts, in the Ministry or in St. Mungo's where magic had inflitrated every bit of the air they breath. Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade were free though, being out in the open field and no wards around them.<p>

With this change, increased the wizarding entertainment. While Quidditch World Cup was still as crowded as ever, witches and wizards across the globe could actually watch it live. Magic and muggle technology seemed limitless, but not quite, for they could only see through one angle at a time. Apart from the world famous Quidditch competitions came the bloom of television shows akin to those of the muggle world. And come 2003, reality shows were more rampant, most especially when it came to the matters of fashion and romance.

In this sense, we'll see our female lead with her best friend. Hermione Granger had grown up to be one of the famous young women in the country. Her heroic deed in the past war, and her brilliance in healing arts had paved a bright way in her career. In the seemingly perfect life of our protagonist however, there seemed to be a problem. Hermione Granger has a non-existent love life.

It was truth that she was always followed by suitors, if the pile of letters that she had to test for dark magic and such every day was the basis, but nothing interest her. Nothing. Why? Because all of them were golddiggers and fame-using-gits. Her Order of Merlin First Class for her deeds on the war had given her an insurmountable piles of gold, silver and bronze in her account, add to the fact that she was one of the most highly paid healers of the Spell Damage Ward, much less the whole country, Hermione Granger could live without working and still her great grandchildren would be living in wealth.

But she couldn't have that. She wouldn't have that. Hermione Granger was much more than that. Hermione Granger needs more than that. Although that realization did not affect any single ounce of determination in her best friend's search for Hermione's man in life. Nope. _Ginny Potter nee Weasley has a goal_. And an ad in the television at the Burrow, Arthur insisted they should have it, had sparked her already ignited flame of determination for her conquest. In a blink of an eye, Ginny had disapparated in their weekly dinner in the Burrow and to Hermione's flat in London.

"But you have to join Hermione. You have to!" Ginny whined as she pouted and clamped her hand together beside the brunette witch, who was currently tuning out the redhead while she read the latest report on the newesr patient she had.

"No, I will not join," she said firmly, her focus still on her file, as she bit her lip in concentration.

"But you need someone to spice up your life. And this might be it! I have a good feeling about this," the redhead insisted. She was absolutely short of kneeling in front of the older witch.

"No, Ginny, it is utterly ridiculous." Hermione said, turning a page of the file and her eyes continuing to read it.

"Please, Hermione. You've been single for so long. Since that debacle with Anton," the redhead made a small face, "you've been quite..." She trailed off, biting her lip and looking away.

Hermione's sharp gaze looked away from the file and towards the younger witch. "Quite what Ginny?"

"You're alone, and been indifferent to many things, Hermione you need a life." Ginny continued after a moment's hesitation and a daring look on her face as she stared on Hermione. She was not a Gryffindor for nothing.

"I'll have you know that I have a life Ginny, and my patients need me. They need me more than my love life needs boost." Hermione said in a matter-of factly tone.

"Honestly, I can't see why my lovelife concern you, Gin." Hermione sighed and stood from her sit, placed the folder on the coffee table and stood up to go to the kitchen. She pulled two glasses from the cupboard and pitcher of pumpkin juice from the icebox.

"You're my friend, Hermione. And I miss my friend. You're so lost in your work you barely give time to us. That all happened when that foul git Anton humiliated you in St. Mungo's ball. Don't you dare deny it, Hermione!" Ginny shouted from the living room.

And Hermione didn't. Anton had been her boyfriend for two years. Loving, sweet man, attentive and very understanding. He was one of Harry's colleagues in the Ministry, and he asked her out on a date after Harry and Ginny's engagement party. A year later, they we're on their way to marriage themselves after the Weasley-Potter nuptials, but Hermione wanted to wait until she finished her training in St. Mungo's and her breakthrough in the medicine. Finally, on their two-year anniversary, coincidentally, St. Mungo's fundraising ball for the new Children's ward, the most unexpected event happened.

_Anton arrived with her, both in their dashing appearances. They've attended numeorus balls, but most were private balls for Hermone hated the crowd. She was still a sought after person even after years, but this crowd she couldn't evade. She was a healer in St. Mungo's after all. She had a feeling, the moment she stepped out of the luxurious car, that Anton wasn't quite his usual self. He was more demanding, and over all self-appreciating of everything and anything. He, at first, acted as an overly gentleman to her. It wasn't until the dances had started that everything happened._

_Hermione was walking at the side of the dance floor with a glass of wine in hand. She had just barely escaped the grasp of conversation with Professor Slughorn and on her way to Anton, only to find him with the infamous Rita Skeeter. Her blood boiled upon seeing the woman, but she maintained her composure. She walked to her fiancee and when he turned around, their distance was too small that he bumped her hand with the glass. The glass tipped, and the wine poured on his robes._

_"What the hell Hermione? That's a 450 galleon robe!" Anton exclaimed. And with that started a screaming match between the two. People had surrounded them, the music stopped and only their voice were heard. Suffice to say, his last words had stung her deeply._

_"Because that's what your use Granger. Your money and fame is what all I want you ugly bitch!" Anton's voice boomed in her ears, her knees buckled and her sight blurred. A pair of arms caught her before she fell, the last thing she remembered was her bestfriends beating bloody pump out of his ex-fiancee._

"Still, no, Giny." She said as she returned with the tray floating before her to the living room. "I can't see the point of me joining this Bachelor game, being stuck in a huge house with bloody airheads, to me having a life. In fact, I see it as a jail," she said ever so calmly as she poured herself and her friend a drink.

"But Hermione, can't you see? You'll be in a game. The point is, you don't have to fall in love with this guy, you just have to compete. And falling in love with the guy is just a bonus." Ginny said changing her tactic, mumbling and absentminded 'thank you.' If Hermione won't budge into joining because of the prize, maybe she'll budge because of the fact that its a competition.

"The point is, I have work to do. And I still say no." Hermione finished her drink and took the folder from the table and resumed her reading. Just then, as if on cue, her fireplace chimed announcing someone's arrival.

"Ginevra Potter. It's time to go," Harry Potter arrived through the floo, his stern gaze on his wife. She just disappeared during dinner, he was left to hear all the sermon from Molly, and all the teasing from the twins. "Evening, Hermione," he said, his voice softening towards his greeting to his best friend.

"Evening, Harry." Hermione smiled warmly before turning back her gaze on the file.  
>"Bye Gin, bye Harry," the brunette witch absentmindedly waved her hand in goodbye towards the couple as Harry half-dragged his wife to the fireplace to floo.<p>

"Bye Hermione." Harry said, as he light nudged Ginny in the fireplace.

_"Whatever, Hermione. I'll make sure you join that game, if it's the last thing I'll do in my life." _Ginny Potter muttered darkly before disappearing to the green flames out of Hermione's house.

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><p><strong>Review please :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

"Good morning Mr. Andrews," Hermione greeted cheerily as she opened the door of her first patient's room that Friday morning, five days since she had heard from Ginny. The witch had dismissed her incessant worries that the redhead would do something rash, 'No Harry would do something about it', she told herself for the rest of the week. But she knew, somewhere deep inside her Ginny is a force you wouldn't want to be up against when she's determined.

Pushing said thoughts out of her mind, the witch placed a small genuine smile on her face as she took the chart beside the man's bed. Mr. Albert Andrews was a victim of the war, like most of the long time patients of St. Mungo's. The Janus Thickey ward was and still is part of the Spell Damage division of the Hospital located in the fourth floor of the building. Hermione had attached herself to it soon as she had gotten the results of her NEWTs, and Mr. Andrews was her very first long time patient.

The man had lost his senses after receiving a nonverbal curse from one of the Dark Lord's prized Death Eaters. No one had was able to pin point the cause of said curse so the Healers of St. Mungo's were not sure how to handle Mr. Andrews when he first arrived. He still responded to stimuli, at least his internal organs do, but not his five senses. Hermione's delicate heart broke for the man. Frequently, she would administer his potions and sometimes, she would simply sit down with him. He was the only person who heard all of the young Healer's thoughts, not that she was sure he could understand her. Hermione's top most goal was to somehow lift the curse on him, because she knew she could do it. There's still some hope.

"I'm worried, Mr. Andrews," she said as she put down the chart back on its place on the table and took the necessary potions for his morning dose. Those were simple potions, like the ones to mend his bones that were still repairing from the war, the ones that would at least help the man's immune system for they couldn't be sure what diseases would take over him despite their clean environment. He couldn't feel, that was for sure, and if he could, they wouldn't know. It was a sad fate for a brave man like him. Albert Andrews was slowly growing healthy despite everything. He had been putting on some weight, in fact, Hermione deemed him normal if not for his lost senses.

"I'm worried what Ginny will do." Hermione continued as she nonverbally filled the glass with water and helped the old wizard sit up. "She came to me last Sunday convincing me to join that stupid game called "The Bachelor". I've watched those shows in the muggle world, you know, and I still think it's utter nonsense," she spoke softly but bitterness and irritation was clear from it. She helped him open his mouth and poured his first potion. As expected, he didn't even reacted. Mr. Andrews only stared blankly on the wall across him.

"But she got a point you know. I don't have a life outside of work since Anton." Hermione's voice struggled to keep the quiver out of it. It had been years but she still hadn't moved on from him. Not really. She didn't love him anymore, not after he had humiliated her so much. But that didn't mean she had forgotten nor forgiven the man. She heard he was the husband of a famous model witch somewhere in continental Europe, but she really didn't care to know what else. No, she moved on from Anton, but she hadn't moved on from the lesson. Men liked her not for her personality and herself but for her money and her fame. "I don't know, Mr. Andrews but men seemed to like me because I'm a war hero and I'm a famous Healer. They didn't like me because I'm simply Hermione Granger." She sighed as she poured another vial of potion into the man's mouth and washed it away with the water.

A quick glance on her watch told her she still had ten minutes before she was due to her next long term patient. Hermione helped Mr. Andrews lie on his back once more before she plopped herself on the chair beside his bed. It pained her to think that no one visited the old man for any family he got was either killed or too young to visit the hospital. She took the man's hand on her own and traced soothing circles on the back of his palm. She felt something akin to a fatherly connection with the man. Perhaps it was because he's the first patient ever assigned to him and Hermione was determined to find a solution to his illness. "What should I do, Mr. Andrews?" Hermione whispered softly and continued her ministrations absentmindedly. The next minutes were spent in silents with only the both occupant's breathing as the music that filled the air.

When her wand buzzed announcing it was time for her to leave, Hermione sighed and stood up. She tucked the man with he blanket and smiled sadly. "I dearly hoped for your quick recovery, sir." She said hopefully. She, then, arranged her robes and put her wand on her pocket. As she turned to leave, a small movement caught her eyes. Mr. Andrew's eyes flickered to her direction, and he gave a small squeeze to her hand. Hermione's eyes widened and she smiled. "Oh Mr. Andrews," she gasped breathily. As she exited, the young healer called for a substitute to look after her next patient as she proceeded to the laboratory. The man's movement gave her some hope! She'll do her best to heal him!

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><p>Hermione plopped down on her black reclining chair in her office with a tired sigh passing on her lips. Her eyes shut as soon as her head sank on the soft headrest and her brain forced the frustration away from her body. The day went very long, but unsuccessful. Besides the small squeeze she had gotten from the old wizard, Mr. Andrews didn't respond to the stimuli at all. She poured her whole time in the lab, concocting a potion she thought would help her, but it didn't.<p>

Forward came the small happy thought that at least Mr. Andrews moved on his own. This was breakthrough enough. She came to accept that everything was slow when it came to recovery, and evry little thing was a milestone. A small smile made its way up to her lips.

Her small peace was interrupted by a knock on her door. She opened an eye as the knob turned counterclockwise and eventually opened slightly. Lisa Turpin, former Ravenclaw in her year stood there with one hand attached to the door and one grasping a letter. Hermione frowned for she didn't normally had a letter sent to her but directed to the receptionist of the hospital- that was Lisa.

"What's that?" She asked, almost stupidly. A letter of course, but still Hermione had to ask. If a letter was written to her and directed to the reception instead of directly, then perhaps it was a memorandum from someone she didn't know. Even her hospital superiors send magical parchments when it came to sending out memos.

"A letter from..." Lisa stepped hesitantly inside Hermione's office. She was new and still shy. The girl just came back from abroad when she escaped during the war. "The Bachelor, Hermione." She said finally, with a slightly amused grin on her face.

Hermione could tell that Lisa was not the witch of her league, more like of Ginny's league. With the amusement she found on Hermione's letter, the older witch found irritation. "Thank you Lisa, you may leave." The brunette's tone was that of dismissal and no nonsense. She wouldn't tolerate jesting now, maybe not ever if she couldn't revoke Ginny's doings.

The yellowish parchment sat on her table, the red wax stamped with the fancy 'B' emblem of the adapted wizarding show smiling mockingly at her. She took a couple of deep breaths before she reached out and tore the stamp. Her eyes quickly glazed over the letter, a consistent frown on her lips.

_"Dear Miss Hermione Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you are accepted to the newest show in the wizarding Britain Television, "The Bachelor"._

_You will be required to report at the Reception Hall upon arrival. We very much look forward to receiving you as the newest part of the first ever season of The Bachelor._

_The game begins on May 21st, we will await your owl by no later than May 20._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Lucinda Crawford Casting Director The Bachelor"_

A small note fell to her hands as the she opened the envelope to put the letter back it. It felts all too familiar. The letter, however, did not induce enjoyment and excitement to her veins, very much unlike her Hogwarts letter did. Instead, it brought a sense of dread that could fill her days to her bitter demise.

The note was written in perfect handwriting as the letter. It was short and straight to the point, and it only induced anger to the witch. How dare her! She thought as she brandished her wand to the note and set it on fire. It had read:

_"PS. We're very sorry Ms. Granger but you are not allowed to reject the offer even if you're kicking and screaming on your arrival to the mansion. Mrs. Potter is scarier than we thought."_

It was all Ginny's fault. Hermione didn't want to leave. She only had a week to prepare. She didn't want to leave, not when she could feel a breakthrough coming for Mr. Andrews. She didn't want to leave the old man alone. But she couldn't _not_ leave. She knew Ginny when she's determined. And as much as she was not scared of the younger witch, she was scared to put tension between them, more tension than what it had been when she and Ron broke up years ago.

Gathering up all her strength, Hermione stood and left her office. "I'll be at Mr. Andrews room, Lisa." She told the witch who was still standing by her door, probably in the hopes that Hermione would squee in delight from the letter. Poor girl, delusional at her best. Hermione strutted off to the man's room. She needed the comfort, even if her comforter would not respond to her. Damn, Ginny. She'll be screaming and kicking all she want when she arrive in that stupid mansion, and she'll bring all the embarrassment she could to her friend if necessary. Damn it all. _Two could play the game._

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><p><em><strong>I'm so sorry about taking long in updating. I really wanted to do an update to each story, but my muse seemed to be on and off, I couldn't finish a chapter. More than Meets the Eye is currently undergoing some outlining and characterization, but I'm hoping I could upload another chapter by next week. I'm sorry for the short chapter too. I promise the next would be much longer. <strong>  
><em>

_**-ladyelainemalfoy-**_


	3. Chapter 3

Draco Malfoy's mother was nothing but meddlesome. She loved to meddle on things that shouldn't be her business, like the Malfoy Enterprises that had been named after Draco since his father's death two years after his incrimination in Azakaban. She loved to make everything her business. There was a time that Draco didn't mind it, his mother meddled on his father's decisions when he was young. Like for example, when Draco was five and a governess was hired to teach him everything he needed to know from arithmetic to etiquette. But Draco wanted nothing more than to have his own broom and fly all day. He asked his father to buy him own, but instead he was told that if he would get O from every subject his governess would teach him, Lucius will buy him one. Unfortunately for Draco, he hated arts. He thought it was a subject for ninnies and he certainly wasn't one. He only got an A, at first, then it turned to EE. Although that was the highest score the woman would give him. He was absolutely horrible, and as much as she wanted to help him, she couldn't lie to the elder Malfoy. Draco, defeated, had thrown a tantrum the day before his sixth birthday. Narcissa had seen him when she entered his bedroom, but left quickly. Draco didn't care but he knew she was the one he should be thankful for when the next day he got exactly what he wished, a toy broom- a racing one nonetheless.

The next incedent happened almost a year after his sixth birthday. He wanted a crup, a small docile brown crup. But his father wouldn't agree. Draco threw a fit in Magical Menagerie and people looked at them, but never voiced out their thoughts. They were Malfoy's after all. Spoiled like he was, Draco didn't mind the stare. Let them see! Let them see then probably father would buy me. Those were Draco's thoughts as he stomped his feet and cried. He was almost seven now, a big boy, but his tantrum got him his broom, so maybe his tantrum would get him his crup too. He saw his mother talk to his father in the corner of his eyes as he continued his act. There wasn't much people inside the place, it wasn't summer after all, no students around. His father's eyes glazed over but nodded nonetheless when a flash of camera blinded the three Malfoys by the window of the shop. Draco thought his mother was the best woman because without her, he wouldn't have had that crup. He named the crup "John." It was common, but he liked it. He never realized that his mother was punished for her meddling because Draco never realized that the cameraman was planned by his mother all along. Somehow, Narcissa Malfoy knew that her son would throw a fit and she only wanted to make him happy- in that case, getting him a crup.

After that incedent, the woman grew distant to Draco and he was forced to have lessons with his father. Thus, Draco had ignored his responsibilities to his pet. After two months of owning John and having daily lessons with Lucius, Draco finally found time for his pet. Unfortunately, the crup was nowhere to find. He called Dobby, his father's house-elf, and asked him where the crup was. However, Dobby only cried. Draco didn't understand at first but felt remorse because he liked Dobby and he didn't want to see him cry. He awkwardly patted his head but he quickly retracted his hand when he heard his father call his name. The man stood at the top of the stairs, cane in hand and a stern look at his face. "Your crup is gone." He said drawled. "Come on, you would do well not to bother with common creatures." He continued, emphasizing his disdain on said creatures. He beckoned Draco along to follow him, to teach him his heritage and to plant hatred for Muggles and Muggleborns both. That day, his mother never meddled.

The next time Narcissa meddled in his business was during the summer before his sixth year. He had received the Dark Mark, had received his first order- to kill Albus Dumbledore and to find a way for Death Eaters to inflitrate the castle. He felt so alone that time. Since his eight birthday, Draco and his mother had been nothing but acquaintances and housemates. He was taught how to be a perfect pureblood child, and he was taught that emotions were weakness, thus, he was forced to be cold to the woman. She was everything but motherly to him since then. But he never imagined she'll make an Unbreakable Vow to save his life. He hated it, he hated that he was a coward. He hated that he couldn't do the task. But most of all, he was scared and he was afraid to admit that he was grateful for his mother and for the Vow, because deep inside, Draco knew that he was not a killer. He could not kill Dumbledore, not if he had to repeat his life a thousand times again.

Now, five years after the war, Draco found himself at the mercy of his mother's meddling. During the times she had meddled with his business, Draco was always grateful to her. Even if he wouldn't admit that to her. Today, however, Draco felt nothing but irritation with her meddling ways. She had hinted about him getting married, and that she was getting old that she wanted to see her grandchildren before she died. The latter excuse was ridiculous, witches tend to outlive wizards and as a general rule, magic folk could live and maintain their young looks for a very long time, longer than a muggle for sure. So Draco was sure that she'll meet her future grandchildren, there was absolutely no reason to get married. He had fooled around, discreetly of course less it would make a dent in their almost repaired rank in society.

Unfortunately, the widowed Malfoy saw differently. Perhaps she was getting lonely in the large manor, despite the fact that her son lived there too. Or perhaps she was jealous of her socialite friends who had their sons and daughters married and procreated already. Those were the rest of the pureblood generation who survived the war and were too proud to adopt to changes. Draco was not one of them. He had seen the flaws of his life after some turning points he'd rather keep to himself for now, and he had done his best to repair their name to society's graces. No matter what Narcissa's reason was, Draco couldn't careless. There was one simple thing in his mind. He absolutely hated her show.

In the first ever season, he had just learned this fact a fortnight ago, Draco was to be the bachelor who would pick from the single women who would stay in one of the Malfoy Mansions in UK. He was not required to live with them, but he would not live in the Manor. He would live in another place, one of the Malfoy estates too, and he would be monitoring the girls with the crew. He would go on dates with them, and he'll pick. It was pretty simple, but he didn't like manipulation when it was not him who was the manipulator. Besides, Draco didn't like the fact that he had to stop his life for the show. He didn't like that he would be stuck with the show to the end. It was bloody frustrating, but he had to resign to this fate. Narcissa Malfoy was pulling heartstring with him.

Draco stood behind the balustrade between the double grand stairs of the foyer of the Mansion. It was large, and gaudy, but it was still smaller than the manor. Despite the size and the fact that it belonged to the Malfoys, there was something inviting in the place. He couldn't place his finger on it, but he blamed that to the fact that he owned it now- and to his mindset, nothing he owned was inviting, except his handsome and charming demeanor.

He clasped his hand on his back and stood perfectly still, with a haughty but curious look on his face. He was concealed with a Disillusionment Charm waiting for the arrival of the 18 girls who were deemed eligible to be his wife. He was not to see them yet, but he was a Malfoy and he would do what he wanted to do. No staff could hinder him. It was ten to 11 o'clock and in the next ten minutes the first contestant would arrive. At the very least, meeting the girls was something Draco was very much looking forward with.

The candidates were allowed any method of transportation to get the the mansion. Apparation wards were lowered down to accept the women, the floo network were connected specifically for them, and the gates were wide open for those who would chose to use cars. He didn't mind them, the cars I mean, for he own quite a few. They were handy, much like the television and telephone in the new times.

The house hummed announcing the arrival of the first contestant- or rather three contestants. Three distinct pops were heard and the cameramen and crew were alerted and ready to assist the girls. He found himself staring at the curvy blonde and two dark-haired women from above. He'd seen them before, but he was sure they'll hate him once they knew who he was- or maybe not. They were like Pansy after all. Lavender Brown, Padma and Parvati Patil arrived at the foyer, the former and the latter giggling in anticipation. He sneered at them, the giggles were too girlish. At least the ex-Ravenclaw was still very much like herself in school, serious and pretty.

Two other women arrived after, one red-haired that reminded him of a Weasley though he was sure that the She-Weasel wouldn't join unless Potter divorced him. He was probably late in the news if that was the case, and the other had a strawberry blonde hair. She looked like a new face, but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't recognize all contestants now could he? He wasn't that social anyway.

He just realized that then number of women were lower than that of the muggle show- he was forced to watch it beforehand- but maybe they couldn't find enough participants. Good for them, he'll show them what a wreck the show is. Draco cackled in his mind. He had to stay silent as the floo hummed and out came another woman from Hogwarts. He was sure who she was- Mandy Brocklehurst, Ravenclaw. She was one of the purebloods of his generation who wasn't married yet. Why would she? Draco was sure she didn't believe in pureblood supremacies anyway. She was too much of a goody-good prefect during Hogwarts, much like Granger.

Granger. His mind difted off towards the older brunette. She was one of the older students in his year- he knew it because he had seen her record in the Infirmary once. The Golden Girl, Gryffindor Princess, Brains of the Trio, and the famous War Heroine of all time, Hermione Know-it-All Granger. She had escaped the venomous grasp of media the year after the war, thanks to the attention grabbing wedding of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. Draco had to commend her that. Even her break up with the Weasel was short lived. Unlike him, she had lived an almost silent life during the first years after the war.

That all ended when the St. Mungo's Charity Ball happened. He had to admit, the man was cruel. Coming from a man who had been nothing but cruel to that woman, that surely was saying something. Draco sneered at the man as he watched the hurt flashed before her eyes when -what's his name? whatever- the git showed his true self. It was cruel because Draco had seen them together before, in the distant, through his dealings in St. Mungo's and the Ministry. He had witnessed loved on her side, and somehow what that git did hurt her more than what Draco did during their childhood. That wasn't saying that Draco was not cruel, because he was. He probably couldn't face her again... _probably._

Through his musings, Draco had missed the arrival of the rest of the candidates. It wasn't very long apparently, because the girls had arrived via floo or apparation and mostly around the same time. Only one contestant arrived in a car. He hadn't seen nor heard their arrivals for he was so lost in thought. He was only pulled back from it when he heard an all too familiar shriek downstairs. Oh bloody hell, Merlin help him! Pansy Parkinson was included in the pool of girls.

Eighteen women stood in the foyer. Seventeen of them already in the vast space with their heavy laden trunks, one stood by the wide open double doors. Draco blinked rapidly, and swallowed thickly. Wasn't just moments ago he was thinking of her? Double damn, he thought.

"WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THAT _FILTH_ DOING HERE?" Pansy shrieked every so shrilly and her voice echoed in the huge room. Draco stood, his mouth slightly ajar but quickly closed it as he shook his head from the momentary shock. Only a few minutes now, it was exactly 11:40 and in the next five minutes, the host, Margaret Fletcher would explain everything to the girls. Then it'll be time for him to go down and show himself.

"We would appreciate if you keep calm, Ms. Parkinson or we will be forced to retract our offer and send you back home." Margaret, the buxom blonde woman, said as she climbed down the stairs gracefully. Pansy pouted and glared at the last contestant while the host welcomed them all.

"Welcome girls to the Red Rose Mansion." Draco had tuned her voice out. He grimaced at the fact that she was here. He couldn't face her, right? Or could he? A plan formed in his mind. Maybe this would simply make the show very interesting. Yes, yes, maybe it would.

"Now ladies, let's all welcome our handsome bachelor, Mr. Draco Malfoy," Margaret's silky voice rang through everybody's ears and Draco placed a smirk on his lips as he took the charm off of himself. He stood impeccably straight and handsome and watched every single reaction from the women below. Even Margaret Fletcher was charmed, although maybe she had to act like she was. The woman was a relative after all.

"Good morning ladies, welcome. I look forward to knowing you all." He greeted, almost pleasantly as he walked down the stairs to meet the girls who had lined up in front of him. He kissed each of their hands and winked at some. He played the perfect gentleman. Other giggled, others merely smiled, while other stood stoic and one glared.

That one was Hermione Granger. Her eyes were full of disbelief and rage as his own connected with hers. She didn't offer her hand for him to kiss, nor did she make a move to leave. She could leave anytime, he was sure it was part of the contract. But she didn't, and he wouldn't ask her that. Not yet. Draco smirked wider and bowed graciously in front of her. He could feel the eyes of the other women, particularly that of Brown, Parkinson and Greengrass, but he ignored them all. He didn't care, not really.

"Granger, lovely seeing you again." He drawled, and smirked at her, maintaining the steady and haughty look in his eyes as they communicated with hers. Yes. _This would be really interesting after all._

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><p><em>Please read and review~ I hope you like Draco, as much as I love him so. 3<em>

_-elaine_


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